


Vanilla Tart and a Mint Tea

by unassumingvenusaur



Series: SRCU (Sahri Rhoshaan Cinematic Universe) [7]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Canon Universe, Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff, Just a pinch of angst, One Shot, Post-Patch 5.1: Vows of Virtue; Deeds of Cruelty, Pre-5.2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:27:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27937177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unassumingvenusaur/pseuds/unassumingvenusaur
Summary: As Y'shtola sets to work on her research into suitable vessels to carry a soul, her girlfriend brings her some welcome refreshment--and encouragement, besides.
Relationships: Y'shtola Rhul/Warrior of Light
Series: SRCU (Sahri Rhoshaan Cinematic Universe) [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2058933
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	Vanilla Tart and a Mint Tea

**Author's Note:**

> Quick little thing I whipped up based on a bit of [optional dialogue](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/EoG6KzPXUAILbWR?format=jpg&name=large) towards the end of 5.1! 
> 
> Follows [_Her Name_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27800083/chapters/68058715), but I wouldn't say it requires it. 
> 
> The name of the Warrior of Light in this fic is Sahri Rhoshaan.

“This damnable Allagan notation…” 

Y’shtola lets out a defeated sigh, leaning on the table before her and resting her head on one hand. The Allagans’ language, the way they formed their equations, even the very concepts with which they ordered the world...They had long required extra mindpower for her to decipher--a fact which Matoya had always gleefully exploited. Nearly all Allagan texts were sophisticated works which even the most elite of Sharlyan’s scholars struggled to grapple with, of course. Yet even by that metric, something fundamental in the structure of Y’shtola’s mind found them particularly disagreeable. The gap could be made up by sheer stubbornness, as was often the case for Y’shtola, but that fact did not make Allag’s knowledge any less frustrating an opponent with which to contend.

So naturally, it was bloody _Allagan_ technology and knowledge of spellcraft which would herald her return to the Source. Which would prevent the link between her body and soul from being severed forever. Y’shtola massages her temples. Nothing for it, she supposed. 

Though each member of their makeshift research group had gone their separate ways for the night--after receiving a most disturbing update from Sahri regarding happenings in the Source--Beq Lugg had given each a sizable stack of tomes from the Exarch’s personal collection to study. Between the magicked brooms, penchant for isolation, and enthusiasm to drive others into the ground with work, they were all too similar to the old crone she called her master. All too similar, indeed…

Her riveting trip down memory’s stream is interrupted by a knock at her door. She glances towards the source of the sound, and all frustration immediately slips from her brow when she sees the unmistakable aether lurking behind it. That beautiful gold. She’d assumed Sahri had further business to attend to in the Source, so her presence was a most pleasant surprise. 

“Why hello, moonbeam,” she calls out, moving to open the door. Immediately, a medley of sweet smells fills her nostrils. 

“Good evening, Y’shtola.” She hears a smile in the woman’s voice, and one blooms upon her own face. “I’ve brought something for you--two somethings, in fact. Might I come in?”

“You know that you may.” Y’shtola ushers her inside and shuts the door behind her. Sahri walks towards the table, and Y’shtola is proud to note that the woman stands tall as she does--as tall as she reasonably might with her diminutive stature, of course. She’d come a long way since the lows she’d fallen to during their time in Slitherbough. Finally, Sahri had relinquished that man’s stranglehold on her.

Y’shtola hears the sound of Sahri setting dinnerware upon the table, and she eagerly strides forward, sitting before the items her love had brought for her. She takes another whiff, confirming the objects’ nature. 

“Does my nose deceive me?” She asks the woman teasingly. Sahri takes a seat beside her. “With Garlemald newly plunged into anarchy, you take the time to do something so frivolous as to prepare me a homemade vanilla tart?”

“And tea!” Sahri adds. “You specifically wished for both. Obviously, the Crystarium does not have your favorite Sharlyan blend in its stocks, but I did my best to recreate the taste with some honey and mint. I hope you like it.” 

Y’shtola chuckles. “You truly are absurd, Sahri Rhoshaan.”

“Maybe so,” the woman concedes. “But...you love me for it, don’t you?”

Warmth swells in Y’shtola’s heart, and her smile turns gentle. She places a hand on Sahri’s cheek.

“I do,” she says quietly before pulling the woman into a short kiss. 

Sahri hums in contentment. She leans forward and cuts free a slice of the tart, scooping some onto a spoon and holding it before Y’shtola’s mouth in a near-criminally sweet gesture. Y’shtola gladly takes it, taste buds delighting in the taste. Ah...She’d not realized the benefits of making a partner of a professionally trained culinarian before becoming involved with Sahri. The fruits were joyous indeed. After savoring its taste, she takes a sip from the tea, and once again she is beyond pleased. It made a wonderful complement to the tart, and was indeed a dutiful recreation of her preferred blend from the Source. It had been years since she’d last tasted this. Sahri’s attention to detail was impeccable. 

“You’ve outdone yourself this time, moonbeam,” she says gratefully. She feels Sahri place her hand atop her own. Taking a spoon for herself, Y’shtola works away at the slice of vanilla tart which Sahri had cut, mixing sips of the tea in between. This was the peak of relaxation, Y’shtola thinks. 

After a few minutes, Sahri speaks once more. 

“In all seriousness, the situation in Garlemald does concern me,” she begins. “But there’s nothing I can do about it right now, aside from keeping abreast of new developments. Here, though--here, I feel I can contribute.” Y’shtola quirks an eyebrow, finishing the tart she chewed before speaking.

“You intend to lend a hand to our research?” she asks.

“I do.” Sahri nods resolutely. Y’shtola’s smile returns. The woman had made strides in her understanding of aetherology in the past few months, that much was true. Yet such complex transference of the mind and soul was far beyond her depth. Just as the tasks Matoya assigned had been for Y’shtola as a girl, and yet her perseverance won the day. Sahri was no less stubborn than her. Perhaps this was her opportunity to thrive. Even if not, her company would prove most soothing. 

“I, for one, welcome it,” Y’shtola tells her. “But do not expect me to have the time to instruct you on the subjects at hand. I may offer you some guidance, but you will need significant self-study to keep up with us.”

Again, Sahri nods. “Of course. I will not ask for my hand to be held. Whatever it takes--Whatever it takes to return you and the others to your bodies.”

“That’s my girl,” Y’shtola coos. She knows a blush rises to Sahri’s face at that. 

She runs a hand through Sahri’s ever-surprisingly well taken care of hair--a diligence the two shared. As her fingers trail downwards, they come across the feathers hanging in the woman’s hair, and her smile immediately widens. As far as Y’shtola was aware, Sahri had worn these accessories every day since she’d gifted them to her--a fact which afforded her no shortage of satisfaction. She may not be able to see how their blue contrasted with Sahri’s own hair and complexion, but she was deeply cognizant of the significance with which they were worn. They serve as a visible reminder to all who may see her--Sahri is hers. Unshakably hers. She wouldn’t deny some small smugness at winning the heart of such an esteemed woman--to the extent she’d come to her above the other partners which resided but a stone’s throw away. Her secret was, of course, that the woman had just as much won her own heart. Sahri had proven herself more than worthy of her deepest love.

“Perhaps it’s for the best that Alisaie decided to stay at the Inn at Journey’s Head,” Y’shtola remarks. “If she caught wind of this, she would be beside herself.” Sahri giggles--and thus, Y’shtola knows she is smiling.

“I feel bad for the girl, I do,” Sahri says. “Teenage infatuation with an adult you can never have is a most frustrating ordeal.”

“You sound as if you speak from experience.” Y’shtola is teasing, but she is also genuinely curious. It would be little surprise, with how often Sahri’s heart tended to run away with her. The woman scratches her cheek.

“I...decline to comment.” She is embarrassed--Y’shtola smirks. Oh, she’d have to press that point at a later time. “Putting that aside…” How quick she was to change the subject. “How have your studies been progressing, Shtola?”

Ah. A significantly less amusing topic. Y’shtola cannot help but frown. 

“In the two hours since we last spoke? No Rift-shattering revelations, I’m afraid.” Perhaps there was a tad more bitterness in her tone than she intended, because Sahri visibly recoils. 

“R...Right. Of course there wouldn’t be. My mistake.” Sahri laces their fingers together. “...Are you feeling well? You’ve seemed rather unhappy about this entire process.” 

Y’shtola sighs. “Forgive me. I did not intend you to be the target of my frustration. 

“Shh, it’s alright.” Sahri rubs the back of her hand with her thumb. “Will you tell me what’s frustrating you?”

“...These texts have proved challenging,” Y’shtola admits, Sahri’s presence already comforting her. She smiles wryly. “If you believe the equations I’ve shown you to be daunting, you’d best prepare yourself to behold these.” She wants to imagine Sahri goes bug-eyed.

“Oh, gods…” The woman’s tone is brimming with horror. “If they are giving _you_ trouble, I can hardly…” She shakes her head. “I will...endeavour to learn them, is what I mean to say. Perhaps putting our heads together will serve to help us both.”

“Perhaps so,” Y’shtola agrees. “You are possessed of an insight most keen.” There is a pause.

“Are you certain that’s all which is troubling you, though?” Sahri presses. “Certainly, you’ve wrestled with many a difficult text before…”

...It wasn’t, if Y’shtola was being honest with herself. She throws a glance around the room--this room which the Exarch had designated as hers in the Pendants. She’d rarely felt less at home. It was...far too clean, far too orderly. Far too bright. Far too separated from the earth which should naturally form such dwellings…

“...As I said, a keen insight. You’re correct,” she concedes with a sigh. She casts her gaze downwards. “In truth, part of me resents being torn from Slitherbough, from the Blessed. When we tracked down the Lightwardens together, I was able to distract myself in our constant movement. But now, being forced to sit in place and stick my nose into books so far from them...it is painful.” Head resting in her hand, she looks towards Sahri. “I believe I’m beginning to understand why you are so reluctant to linger in the Source.” Sahri’s lithe arms wrap around her.

“So you do...It’s difficult being away from home,” she agrees. “And it’s been yours far longer than mine.”

“Yes...And as much as I regret to say it, this is a project meant for months, not days. It will be some time til we see it again.”

“That doesn’t have to be true,” Sahri objects. “If this drags on, we can visit once in a while. Besides, I’ll need to go at least once--Most of my belongings are still at home. I did not expect that particular visit to the Source to evoke such...movement.” She leans closer to Y’shtola. “...This is part of why I wanted to be here, too. I knew you were out of sorts. But finding this answer is too important, Shtola.”

“Oh, I know,” Y’shtola tells her, clenching her fists. “My very own life is at stake, as well as those of my dearest comrades. And yet…” She scowls, nails digging into her skin. “And yet, every page I turn, I come a step closer to my permanent separation from the very people I have come to love as my family--who have come to love me as theirs. From the truest home I have ever known…” 

Moments pass between the two in silence. Soon, Sahri wipes a tear from her eye--a tear Y’shtola had not realized had fallen.

“Y’shtola...Do you recall where I was raised?”

“...Of course,” Y’shtola answers. “The Twelveswood, yes?”

“Indeed...But the East Shroud in particular,” she clarifies. “Living there...Do you know what sight I witnessed near every day?” Y’shtola racks her mind, and what Sahri suggests is quickly obvious. Her eyes widen slightly.

“...Baelsar’s Wall.”

Sahri nods. “Yes. As a child, it seemed...Nothing short of a force of nature. It stood as far back as my memory extends. Daunting, insurmountable, a reminder I was never truly safe. And on its other side? My home. The home my parents died for. A home I was so certain I would never see that I nigh relinquished it as my own.” Her tone grows dark. “...Its namesake...He was the first man I ever _delighted_ in striking down. To think he still walks free…” She shakes her head. “But that is beside the point.”

Y’shtola squeezes her hand. “Yet you were the very one who overcame that wall, in the end--and freed your home besides. That is what you are trying to say, yes?” The situations were dramatically different, and yet...Y’shtola feels the slightest spark of hope.

“It is. Obviously, the Rift between dimensions is a far greater obstacle than a wall of iron and steel...But the truth remains the same. No matter how insurmountable it may seem...When the day comes to leave the First, it need not be the last time you see the Blessed--not if you work to make it so.” Sahri clutches her chest. “Of course...There is always the chance those efforts may fall short. When I stood atop Ala Mhigo’s royal palace, my parents could not suddenly return to life. And yet...And yet, with all Lady Lukah had told me of them...I could feel their pride in my heart.” 

Sahri takes both Y’shtola’s hands in hers. “Even if you can never see them again, you’ll carry them with you. Even--even if you forget their faces, forget their names, they will be there. They will. Your home will ever be in your heart, Shtola.”

Only now does it dawn on Y’shtola that Sahri spoke of more than Ala Mhigo. An image flashes through her mind--that of a nearly-shattered Sahri striding through the streets Emet-Selch conjured...Prepared to walk forward, to face whatever fate awaited her...It was an even more impressive sight now, knowing what must have been going through Sahri’s head at the time, the inexplicable pangs of emotion which she felt...Yes. The woman has ever helped her stay true to her convictions--And she’s done so again. Y’shtola lays her head on Sahri’s shoulder. 

“I do not know from where you draw your endless resolve, moonbeam,” Y’shtola says quietly, “but it is a potent balm. Thank you.” The woman’s hold on her shifts so that one hand now rests upon Y’shtola’s hair, stroking her. Y’shtola...begins to purr. It was a sound few ever heard--and fewer would dare admit they’d heard if they wished to avoid their arses being set aflame. And yet, she had been doing so more and more in her and Sahri’s private life. She did not need to feel self-conscious. For Sahri understood...

“I...I have been feeling optimistic of late,” Sahri tells her. “Perhaps it is seeing how Norvrandt has pulled together and started to rebuild. Or perhaps it is the renewed glint of life Ryne has gifted the barren waste of the Empty. But I am genuinely hopeful. We will face steep adversity in the future, of that there is no doubt. But I’m hopeful we can overcome them, together.”

“Your hope fuels mine.” Y’shtola holds Sahri’s hand the slightest bit tighter. “I will not be so quick to give up, then. It would be against my very nature, after all. This need not be an end. Not truly.”

“It does not,” Sahri reinforces. “...But you are clearly tired. So there is one thing that must end, at least for tonight.” Sahri leans forward and shuts the book Y’shtola had been studying from, sliding it to the end of the table. “I don’t care what Beq Lugg has instructed you to do. I will shoulder the blame for it. You deserve your rest as much as I do. ...Toya.”

Somehow, Y’shtola falls for her just a little more. 

“Sweet Lukah…” She gives Sahri a nuzzle before sitting up. “You are kind to me, indeed. ...Though I do wish you’d allowed me to mark my page before slamming the tome shut.” Sahri giggles, and Y’shtola can hear her beautiful smile.

“I’ll help you find it again in the morning. Put that out of your mind for now, won’t you?” Sahri releases Y’shtola and reaches forward--picking up a fork and a knife. “I know what you would be much better served by tonight--a second slice of vanilla tart!”

“A _second_ slice? Goodness.” Y’shtola grins widely. “With such indulgence, we may accidentally found a new Eulmore.”

The women laugh together, and Y’shtola knows that even if the worst happens--even if she can never see Slitherbough again--she will be alright. For she’ll have a little piece of home sitting right beside her.


End file.
